The Scrutiny of Somnolence
by mediaqueen90
Summary: stand alone piece. Like any other person, Michael has nightmares.    His are just worse.    Character Study


Michael doesn't know which nightmares are bad. He just knows that the nights he has them, he wakes up normally more exhausted than when he went to bed. He also knows he got violent during them because he'd wake up hog tied, if Fiona was over, or thoroughly tangled in his sheets, slightly damp from sweat.

He does know he can break the nightmares into different parts of his life. Childhood. Afghanistan, Pre-Fiona, Post-Fiona, Larry, Post-Larry and Burned Miami.

Each category has him waking up with a different reaction, but to Michael they are just as bad as each other. He doesn't try to differentiate which ones are more worse than others, not does he try and figure out how much time passed from beginning to end of the nightmare.

Michael just knows that sometimes it's harder to go to sleep than others, and sometimes its his location that affects what dreams he has. Naturally, a majority of his childhood ones occur at his mother's house and his Post-Fiona ones would occur at her house. Its when he stays at these places that he sneaks a fifth of whiskey or two, but alcohol doesn't always work.

No. Sometimes it just makes it worse.

~!~

Unlike Michael, Fiona does know which nightmares are the bad ones, a word or two murmured in his sleep will often give away the nature of the dream. But sometimes, on the really bad nights, Fiona doesn't even have to ask in the morning, or just brush it off as sleep-talk because sometimes, he will toss and turn frequently, other times he will flinch as if getting beaten or hit by bullet as such.

Sometimes, he full outright misses punching or kicking Fiona by mere millimetres. It's these nights she hog-ties him. He's too far into REM to notice her doing so, and in the morning he wakes up with slightly bruised wrists or ankles, or he almost rolls out of bed.

Once he actually did roll out of bed.

Michael was having a particularly violent dream – it was a Larry one – and he was thrashing about the bed, as if he were running away from something. He was half talking, half-whimpering, and before he could reach under the pillow and grab his gun, Fiona had straddled him and tied his wrists and ankles with a couple of scraps of silk from a dress she had ruined earlier in the week.

While the silk had minimised the stress on the spy's wrists, Michael – still thrashing – rolled perilously close to the edge before one massive flinch had him continuing to roll out of the bed and hit his forehead on the night stand.

That had awoken him with a jerk.

After a late night patch up, some knock-out strength painkillers and a good night sleep for the both the them, Fiona had preceded to inform Michael of his eventful sleep in the morning while eating one of his yoghurts.

Yeah. Fiona knows which nightmares are the bad ones.

~!~

Sam Axe is a lucky man when it comes to sharing the loft, hotel room or just plain sleeping space in general with Michael Westen.

Well most of the time.

Sam knows from experience that War or army dreams could be really bad in comparison to spy ones. So when Michael starts crying aloud and bucking on the bed as if he were falling or taking shrapnel from an insurgent's bomb, he knows Michael is back there, back in Afghanistan where the lives of your entire team were occasionally more important than your own life.

Some nights, when he is crashing on Michael's couch – either when he is between divorcés or because he's had a bit too much, he hears Michael call out the names of members in his platoon or squad, he hears the rustle of sheets as Michael runs as fast as he can, encouraging his peers to follow him for their own safety. He also hears the coughing – more like choking – on dust and desert sand after a hard fall or something has blown up, or set alight.

But some nights... he also hears the soft sigh Michael lets out when he's trying to not let his emotions get the better of him.

Michael doesn't know that Sam knows because Sam lies stock still, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and deep, feigning sleep and keeping his best friend's dignity private and personal.

Sometimes, it's only the rustle of sheets Sam hears.

And it's those nights he considers himself lucky.

~!~

As a mother, Madeline Westen _always_ knows when her son is having nightmares. Whether it is a hotel room, Michael's room – next to hers – or the couch he sleeps on whenever Madeline is brought to the Loft without a choice, Madeline always knows when Michael is having nightmares.

And most of the time, she can tell, he dreams about his childhood.

At the house she will hear Michael through her bedroom wall, pleading for Frank to leave Nate or her alone, other nights, it's Michael having a heated argument with his father followed by an "umph" as he dreams his father pounding on him.

Admittedly, nightmares about his childhood are not as often as they used to be when he first returned to Miami, but the nights he is asleep in his room – without Fiona there – the _really_ bad nightmares take hold. Sometimes they scare the living daylights out of Maddie.

Other nights, she drags herself out of bed, shakes Michael's shoulder and wakes him up. It's on those nights that, despite his age, he hugs his mother and he falls asleep in her arms because Michael doesn't have to face this alone any more. Madeline knows that it was partially her own fault that her children did not have an ideal childhood, but sometimes she doesn't regret it as much as she usually does because it means she can be a mother and look after her son.

Madeline Westen is, first and foremost, a mother, and some nights – when Michael can't sleep – she exercises her right as a mother and tells her son's bad dreams to take a hike.

~!~

Sometimes, Michael hates it in the morning when he wakes up after a rough night.

Fiona would sometimes be sitting up in bed next to him, reading her latest book; Madeline would be sitting at the dining table, sipping fresh brewed coffee; or, Sam is sitting at the kitchen bench in the loft, munching a yoghurt and looking over case files for the latest job and they all ask:

"Which one was it?"

_**Author's Note: Please read and review!**_

_**AN2: to those of you who have been in wars or conflict, the scenario I have here is not based on any experience. I understand everyone's experience is different and I want to emphasise that I mean no insult to anyone for a possibly incorrect interpretation of post-war/conflict emotions. **_

_**For those of you who read this and are In the armed forces – may you stay safe in your conflict and any future endeavours.**_


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